


Freudian Slip

by awesomesockes



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Fluff, M/M, Phanfiction, Smut, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 12:58:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3811390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesomesockes/pseuds/awesomesockes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan is trying to learn a new language, but it turns out to be harder than he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freudian Slip

**Freudian Slip**

**Summary:** Dan is trying to learn a new language, but it turns out to be harder than he thought.

 **A/N:** Okay. So me and Bethany have been trying to write this fic for forever now as a celebration for hitting 3k and 1k followers on tumblr. Though we are a little late for that now. Better late than never, amiright? :D *awkward laughter*

also thanks michelle for describing phil’s thing-a-ma-jig while me and bethany were being two innocent children. u cool

 **Contains:** Fluff, smut/blowjob, crack-fic-ish.  
 **Warnings** : Smut.  
 **Phan status:** Together.  
 **Words:** 2018  
 **POV:** Third.

**Freudian Slip**

_-Talk Danish to Me_

 

“I CAN’T DO THIS. I QUIT!”

 

“Dan, it’s been -- what -- four classes?”

 

“It’s impossible.”

 

“It’s really not,” Phil said, carefully reaching across the table towards the photocopied pages of Dan’s ancient Danish textbook.

 

“But it is! I mean, look at this!” Dan gestured to the book irritably. “Sometimes your D’s sound like D’s, sometimes they’re like L’s and sometimes they sound like nothing at all! Every letter is silent _except_ for the E’s at the end of your words, you don’t pronounce _half_ the letters, and all the numbers over twenty are drunk. I’m out.”

 

“Okay, first off,” Phil defended, “we pronounce the whole word every time-”

 

“Liar!” Dan interrupted. “Fucking liar.”

 

“-and second, it just takes practice. You’ll get the hang of it! Here, let’s try it again-”

 

“No. I’m done.”

 

“Dan.”

 

_“Nej.”_

 

“Oh look!” Phil smiled encouragingly. “You’re catching on.”

 

“Shut up,” Dan snapped back. “Hold your caffès or whatever you kids say.”

 

“It’s _hold kæft_. And hey, you’re the one who signed up for this,” Phil reminded him.

 

As much as he hated to admit it, Phil was right. It had been completely Dan’s decision to start taking Danish night classes every week at a nearby university. It’d seemed like such a great idea at the time, too.

 

It wasn’t as if Dan really _needed_ the language to communicate -- Phil had been speaking English fluently since he was a kid and everything YouTube related was done in English (especially now that the two had moved to London together). But Dan wanted to learn anyway, for several reasons.

 

First, Danish was nothing if not amusing. Where English made up a word for everything, Danish seemed to just recycle the same few hundred, resulting in some pretty hilarious phrases. Translating the Danish word for ‘garden hose’ back to English, for example, he got ‘water snake’. A tough guy was called a ‘hard banana’. A vacuum cleaner was, literally, a ‘dust sucker’.  

 

Second, it wasn’t really fair that Phil had to do all the work in their relationship, constantly having to translate everything he wanted to say into his second language, no matter how tired or frustrated he was. Dan had decided it was about time he pulled his own weight.

 

But the final thing that had pushed Dan to register for the class was that he and Phil were planning to fly back to Denmark to visit Phil’s family for the Christmas holidays and he _at least_ wanted to be able to say more than ‘jeg elsker dig’ and ‘tak for mad’ this time around.

What he’d discovered was that Danish really wasn’t that hard. Sure, the endings got a little confusing when the words piled up, but for the most part, his boyfriend’s ridiculous native tongue made a lot of sense.

Until he had opened his mouth to try to pronounce anything. Then he pretty much just wanted to rip out his vocal cords.

 

“I _know_ I signed up for this,” Dan groaned, “but had I known I wouldn’t even be able to count to thirty without having a fucking _stroke_ , I might’ve reconsidered.”

 

Phil laughed. “Oh c’mon… It’s not like I can say ‘thirty’ in English either.”

 

Dan rolled his eyes. “You just did,” he said flatly.

 

“Yeah but not the right way. You know what I mean.”

 

“Fine. I’ll say ‘thirty’ and you can say your ‘trelvey’ thing.”

 

“It’s _tredive_ ,” Phil corrected, “and try to focus. Numbers was last week. We’re on colours now.”

 

“At this rate, I’ll have grandkids before I make it through kindergarten…” Dan muttered and looked back to the paper in front of him.

 

“Okay, stay with me, Dan.” Phil pointed to the red circle on the page and read off the Danish word. “Rød.”

 

Dan blinked. “What?”

“ _Rød_ ,” Phil repeated, the corners of his mouth turning up in a grin.

 

Dan blinked again. “Okay, you didn’t say _any_ of those letters. It sounds more like you’re choking on a potato.”

 

“I said every letter, dumbass. _Rød_.”

 

“No. It’s not even a full sound. It’s just half a sound,” Dan complained. “Like you started to say ‘roll’ but gave up halfway through.”

 

“No, it’s like I said _rød_.”

 

“Where the fuck did the D go?”

 

“The D is still there, it’s just soft.”

 

Dan smirked.

 

“ _Hold kæft_ ,” Phil giggled.

 

“What? I said nothing,” Dan said, grinning.

 

Phil just rolled his eyes, then reached for Dan’s homework sheet and wrote something in the top right corner. “You should try to say that,” he said, turning the paper back so the other could see.

 

Dan squinted at the foreign phrase. “Um…”

 

“ _Rødgrød med fløde.”_

 

Dan snorted out a laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You said about two percent of those letters.”

 _“Rødgrød med fløde,”_ Phil repeated.

 

“No. I refuse to believe those are real words.”

 

“It’s a dessert,” Phil explained, his eyes lighting up like they did whenever he shared a piece of trivia from his country. Really, if Dan was honest, that look was the reason he stayed in the class. “Like some kind of pudding with red berries. But the funny thing is that it’s so hard for foreigners to pronounce that soldiers used it during World War II to identify who was actually Danish and who was a German infiltrator, pretending to be Danish to sneak into the country. _Rødgrød med fløde._ ”

 

“Rode...” Dan began.

 

“Rød,” Phil corrected.

 

“Roll?”

 

“ _Rød_.”

 

“Row... grow… mill...”

 

This time, Phil paused between each word to clap his hands together. “ _Rød. Grød. Med. Fløde_.”

 

“Oh. My. Fucking. God,” Dan said, also punctuating his words with claps.

 

For the next five minutes, Dan tried to wrap his mouth around the phrase, each time failing worse than the first and leaving Phil doubled over laughing.

 

“Jesus Christ, this is physically painful,” Dan whimpered after his twelfth attempt. “Like, it actually hurts my throat.”

 

Phil shook his head slowly, but his grin remained. _“Vatnisse,”_ he muttered under his breath.

 

“What did you call me?” Dan demanded.

 

“A wimp.” He stuck his tongue out.

 

“Well excuse me for not descending from the fucking Vikings,” Dan quipped back. He leant back against sofa, exhaling deeply. “I’m done, Phil. This is too hard. It feels like my tongue is inside out.”

  
“Would you stop with the innuendos already, Dan?” Phil said, jokingly hitting him with one of the sofa pillows.

 

“But seriously,” Dan said through a yawn, ignoring the pillow. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get the hang of pronouncing this shit. My mouth has no idea how to make half these sounds.”

 

“That’s because you don’t actually move your mouth that much when you speak it,” Phil replied. “It’s hard to explain… The sounds are kind of more from the back…” He gestured vaguely around his head.

 

Dan nodded. “Yeah, that’s what my teacher said. For English, we kind of speak from the front of our mouths, but for Danish, it’s more from the throat.”

 

“Like you’re choking on a potato.”

 

“Exactly.” Dan grinned. “Actually, no joke, he suggested we try that to practise.”

 

Phil huffed out a laugh. “Choke on a potato?”

 

“Or just have someone in my mouth.” Dan shrugged.

 

Phil paused. “... _Something,_ right?”

 

“What?”

 

“You said _someone,_ butyou meant _something,_ right?”

 

“Oh. Right. Something.” The corners of Dan’s mouth drifted upwards in a cheeky grin. “But, you know, _someone_ would work too, if you know what I mean.” Slowly, he climbed onto Phil’s lap, tossing the papers back over his shoulder so that they slid across the floor several feet away. Phil just stared back at him blankly.

 

“What?” Dan asked innocently, tilting his head to the side.

 

Phil was unamused. “Really, Dan?”

 

“Maybe it was a Freudian slip.”

  
Phil snorted.“And what the hell is that supposed to mean? You wanna suck my dick now or what?”

  
“Maaybee. All this danish is making me _liderlig_.” Dan groaned softly and slowly began to trailing his fingers around the outline of Phil’s crotch, already able to feel him through the fabric of his jeans. Smirking, Dan started unbuttoning Phil pants, pulled the zipper down, and slipped a hand in, causing Phil to moan slightly as the heel of Dan’s hand began to massage his cock.

  
“Of all the words, you remember that one. Great...” Phil breathed.

 

“Hey! Blame yourself. You’re a crappy teacher,” Dan complained as his free hand worked on the buttons of Phil’s shirt.

 

“I didn’t teach you _those_ words!”

 

“Maybe I would’ve paid more attention if you had.” Dan let out a little sigh as he shifted his position slightly. “See that’s the trouble with learning another language,” he went on, fingers traveling down his boyfriend’s bare chest. “All the sentences are boring. They’re all, ‘Hello my name is Dan. I am going to the store now’ blah blah blah. Give me something actually useful.”

 

“Like…?”

 

“Like...” Dan paused his movements, and stared thoughtfully into Phil’s eyes, “I don’t know… how about ‘I wanna suck you off’?”

 

“But you can’t really say that in Danish! I mean, well, you _can,_ but it sounds really awkward…”

 

“C’mon Phil,” Dan prompted, “I’m finally focused and ready to learn.”

 

“Oh my god… Fine. Uhm… I guess it’s like, ‘Jeg vil gerne sutte dig af’.’

 

“Alright then.” Dan grinned mischievously, climbing off of Phil’s lap and onto the floor between his legs. “Jeg vil gerne sutte dig af.”

 

Phil hid his face behind his hands and groaned. “Oh god, please go back to English. I beg you.”

 

“Nej.” His gaze fixed pointedly on Phil’s crotch. “Now how about something like, ‘the view’s pretty nice from down here’?”

 

“...Udsigten er meget god hernede fra.”

 

Dan stared at him a second. “Yeah, that’s not happening. How about, ‘Fuck this language and fuck my mouth’.”

 

Phil snorted out a laugh. “Fuck det her sprog og fuck min mund.”

 

Dan poised his hands on the waistband of Phil’s jeans, ready to say it as he removed them. “Fuck--” But that was all he could get out before cracking up.

 

“What?” Phil giggled back.

Dan sat back on his heels, shaking with laughter. “What am I doing with my life?”

 

“You’re learning a language spoken by 5.5 million people around the world, that’s what,” Phil supplied. As Dan slid his jeans and boxers down, he exhaled in pleasure. “And, I mean, if you really _are_ supposed to practise with something in your mouth…”

 

Dan smirked as he took Phil’s cock in his hand, stroking it a few times. “What was that impossible phrase again?” he asked, both amusement and challenge in his voice.

 

“Rødgrød med fløde?” Phil offered.

 

Dan wasted no time in taking Phil into his mouth, sucking gently. When Phil’s length neared the back of his throat, Dan stopped moving and relaxed his mouth.

 

“Rødgrød… med... flow?” Dan tried. With his mouth occupied as it was, the words came out as a weird mumble. But it was the closest he’d come to proper pronunciation yet.

 

“Yes. And so--” Phil gasped out, “--the word for red is…?”

 

“Rød!” Dan murmured happily. “ _Rødgrød med fløde!_ ”  

 

Phil leaned his head back against the sofa. “Oooh _baby_... talk Danish to me,” he moaned out.

 

At that, Dan choked suddenly and had to pull back, sputtering with laughter. “Phil!”

 

“What?” Phil said innocently. “I was just being encouraging.”

 

“You’d better thank your Norse gods you’re so attractive or else I would’ve left you years ago,” Dan deadpanned.

 

“You do know Denmark is a Christian nation now, right?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Dan used his thumb and finger to flick Phil’s forehead. “Idiot.”

 

“Hey, no smurf kicks!” Phil protested.

 

“Still can’t believe you call those smurf kicks,” Dan giggled.

 

“Did I ever tell you what we call the ‘at’ sign? Like in email addresses?”

 

“Nej,” he replied with a small smile.

 

“Elephant trunk A,” Phil explained excitedly. “Because it’s an A, but it curls up like an elephant’s trunk, you know?”

 

“Of course you’d call it that.” Dan sighed contentedly and leaned back down, hands braced on Phil’s thighs. “Alright… so how do I say ‘blue’?”

  
**_slut_**

 

[Video to help y'all](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gtQiOzujt8w%20)

 


End file.
